Social Media

by JA Huss

  Thirty minutes later I’m heading out the door and out of habit I head to my car, but just as I’m clicking the door locks, I remember—I don’t have to drive.

  Yes. I even do a fist pump.

  The full meaning of my promotion hits me and I allow myself a wide, broad, beaming smile as I walk back into my building, exit the front door, and find myself out on Wazee Street. It’s always been a dream of mine to be able to live and work locally. And now that I’m working in our Downtown office instead of the Cherry Creek office, I can do that.

  I walk up to the Sixteenth Street Mall and the free mall bus is just pulling up. My Starbucks is only a block and a half down, but what the hell? How many people get to take the mall bus to work? I get on, stand, weaving a little as the bus moves, then get off on the next stop with a grin. My Starbucks is only a few steps away and my new work—right across the street.

  I do a little happy dance in my head and pull the door open on my favorite coffee establishment. I keep my coffee money on my handy Starbucks app, so I pull that up as I stand in line and wait my turn.

  And this is when my dream comes crashing back to reality.

  I spent almost all my money on that first-class plane ticket home and I won’t be paid for another week. I have to make a car payment in a few days, and that right there will wipe out my whole account. I will be short, in fact, once I pay insurance. The prepaid balance on my Starbucks card is even worse. I might not even be able to afford my coffee right now. If my memory serves, my card might have about three dollars left.

  Maybe I can sell my car? Then I wouldn’t have that payment. Two payments if I stopped my insurance.

  I dig through my purse, looking for change.

  “What can I get you?” the overworked cashier asks me.

  “Um, just a venti Coffee of the Day, thanks.” I look longingly at the muffins as I wait for him to fill up my cup. That’s one perk of getting cheap coffee. They fill it up for you as you wait. “And a blueberry muffin,” I add quickly once he sets down my drink.

  “Four seventy-five.”

  I flash my app under the scanner and gather up my nickels and dimes. I know I don’t have that much on my card.

  But he hands it back with a receipt and says, “Next!”

  I take my coffee over to the milk station and add in three sugars and half-and-half, still thinking about my card balance.

  I guess it’s my lucky day. I smile again as I stir my coffee and put a lid on it. My step is a bit lighter as I walk out the door and enjoy the crisp fall air as I stroll across the street to my office.

  The downtown office of Big Guys Events, of which I am now an employee, is run by Scott Baker and his brother, Blake. They own the Cherry Creek office too, but they call that one Little Lady Events, and it’s run by the bitchy sisters, Leah and Ali—gag, they are a Mean Girls movie waiting to happen. I was never a favorite of theirs, so I was a little surprised when I got promoted up to Big Guys, but hey, I’m just living, breathing proof that hard work pays off.

  The Big Guys are super-cool. We hit it off immediately at my interview and I’m hoping they give me club events to manage as my first gig. Big Guys handles a bunch of those, all of them hip, trendy rock clubs that have up-and-coming bands playing every weekend and special events once a month.

  I’d be the special events girl. I wouldn’t be dealing with rock bands, thank God. Just planning one or two fantastic parties for each club every month.

  Whew.

  The reality of that is sort of stressing me out as I pull open the door to our building and push the button for the elevator. Our building is six stories tall and only has our offices on the top two floors. The bottom floor is a sandwich shop, but there’s a separate entrance for that.

  The doors open so I get in and hit the button for the fifth floor for a quick stop at my office—squee—before I have to check in with the Big Guys on the top floor for my assignments. The doors open and Flora, the main receptionist, greets me with a wave as she talks to someone on the phone through her headset. My office is the last on this floor. It’s small and dark, but I do not care.

  I flip on the light and stand there for a moment to let it sink in.

  I’ve made it. I’m here. And even though the thirty-two-thousand-dollar salary isn’t a lot, it’s two thousand dollars more than I was making in Cherry Creek.

  So squee again!

  I sit at my old desk and take out my laptop and set it up next to my new desktop so I can check my mail.

  I have a bunch of spam and an email from MrInvisible. I have to smirk as I open that up.

  Enjoy your first day!

  Wait. Did I tell him I started a new job? Did I give him my email?

  “Grace?” Flora calls from outside my door. “You have a delivery.”

  “Delivery?” I get up and peek out the door and spy the most ginormous bouquet of flowers I’ve ever seen. They are like two feet tall and four feet wide, I’m not even joking. “What’s that?” I ask, walking up to the reception desk.

  “Flowers, obviously.” Flora says, peeking out from behind them and pushing up her nerd glasses. “You have a great guy, I’m so jealous.”

  “Um, yeah. He’s really great. I don’t know if I can even carry—”

  “I’ll get them, Grace,” Scott says as he walks up to us. “I was just coming to see if you were in yet.” He grabs the massive arrangement with ease, since he and Blake really are big guys, and walks it down to my office. He sets it down on the only table and then turns to face me. “We have a serious problem,” he says.

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, now listen, I don’t want you to think we’re taking advantage of you, but Grace, you’re the only person who can do this job.”

  “What job?”

  “The wedding,” he huffs out. “I know we don’t do weddings here, and the whole reason you wanted a promotion was so you can move away from weddings, but this is John Blazen’s fiancée. And Johnny went to school with us—with my sister, specifically—and wants us to handle the wedding, but the new Mrs. refuses to use Leah over at Little Lady.”

  “Blazen? He’s the new quarterback for the Broncos?”

  “Uh, yeeeahhh,” Scott says back, like he can’t believe I had to ask. “This wedding is the event of the year and it’s happening in two weeks. But Leah pissed off the future Mrs. Blazen, and now she wants Big Guys to handle everything. So…” He hesitates and shuffles from one foot to the next. “Will you do it?”

  “How come I’ve never heard of this wedding?”

  “Total hush-hush,” Scott says as he wipes his brow. He’s really sweating my answers. Which is ridiculous. I never say no. I’m a yes-girl. And besides, like I’d really turn down my first assignment. It’s something I do well and they need me. “Blazen just got raked over the coals by his ex after that whole cheating scandal, and didn’t want the media to know about it until after it’s over.”

  “OK, I mean, sure, Scott. Whatever you guys need.”

  He claps me on the shoulder—hard, like he must do to his brother—and beams a smile at me. “That’s great. I’ll make sure your club events are all taken care of this month. The wedding’s in Vegas in two weeks. I’ll have Flora get all Leah’s preparations over to you, stat, and you can set up a meet-and-greet with the future Mrs. Blazen today.”

  Before I can ask if the future Mrs. Blazen has a name that might not reference the husband she doesn’t yet have, Scott is off, being his usual boisterous self to my new co-worker Adam.

  I let out a deep breath. OK, for a first assignment, a wedding is right up my alley. It’s a good thing, really. It will give me time to settle in without the pressure of setting up club events on top of it.

  Just one wedding in two weeks.

  How hard can it be?

  Plus, it’s a celebrity wedding. Sorta. The Broncos are superstars in this town, and everyone knows of Johnny Blazen, both on the field and off. He’s a huge playboy and his recent divorce from second wife Amber
was a scandal this town will never forget.

  At least until they have the new wedding to gossip about.

  “Here you go, Grace,” Flora says as she hands me a thick paper file. “This is the hard copy of receipts and stuff that Leah sent. She said to tell you good luck. Apparently Mrs. Blazen is pretty difficult.”

  “Oh, great.” I smile at her. “Hey, by any chance, do you know Mrs. Blazen’s first name?”

  “Um…” Flora stops to think. “No, actually. I think she refers to herself that way.”

  And then she’s gone and I’m alone in my office with my new assignment. I flip the folder open and find Mrs. Blazen’s number, key it into my phone, and then hit send.

  “Hola,” a chirpy woman says on the other line. “Future Mrs. Blazen here.”

  “Um, hi, Mrs. Blazen, this is Grace Kinsella from Big Guy Events. I’m your new—”

  “Yes, Grace. We’ve met down at Little Lady Events. I’m thrilled to see you’ve been moved. I asked for you specifically a few months ago, but Leah refused to let you be my planner.”

  “Oh, I had no idea. I just—”

  “I have time to meet in an hour, can you come to my house in Park Hill?”

  “Sure—”

  “Great, see you then.”

  And the call cuts off.

  I just stare at my phone for a few seconds and then it rings in my hand. I press accept automatically without looking at the number. “Big Guy Events, Grace Kinsella speaking, can I help you?” Shit, I just answered my personal phone with my business greeting.

  “Miss Kinsella, this Mr. Whitman at the bank.”

  “Yeah?” Double shit, I bounced a check.

  “I just wanted to personally let you know that your savings account conversion has been completed, and I wanted to check to make sure you didn’t need anything else before I leave for the day. My mother is not well and I’d like to—”

  “Wait, what’s going on?”

  “Oh, my mother, she’s a diabetic and she’s got a toe infection, so I have to go take her—”

  “No, I mean…” I roll my eyes. “I’m sorry to hear that, so yes, of course you should go—”

  “Great. Your new interest rate on your savings has been doubled.” He stops to chuckle. “After all, with a deposit like that, we offer special perks to our best customers.”

  “Perks?”

  “You have concierge service now. I’m your personal attendant and I will attend to everything you need, Miss Kinsella, but tomorrow, if that’s OK?”

  “Yeah, sure, but—”

  “Great, call me at this number whenever you need anything. Just not—”

  “Today, yeah, I get it.”

  “Thank you,” he sings back at me. And then I get the disconnect beeps again.

  Jesus. Can life get any stranger? These flowers are not mine, this bank concierge is not mine, and this celebrity wedding is not… well, yeah, that one is mine. I smirk at that, but still. Weird.

  Well, since Mr. What’s-his-face can’t be bothered today, I will sort that bank stuff out tomorrow. And I still have forty minutes before I need to leave to meet Ms. Blazen, so first thing first.

  How much coffee money do I have left?

  I press my Starbucks app on my phone and walk over to the flowers as I wait for it to load. There’s a card, and I’m just pulling it out of the little pink envelope when my balance comes up.

  I stare at it.

  Then at the card in my hand.

  You are cared for.

  Then my balance. Four thousand, nine hundred and ninety-seven dollars, sixty-three cents.

  What? How? I look back at the flowers and see Asher’s little V initial. What the fuck? Who the hell puts five thousand dollars on a Starbucks account?

  And that stuff with the bank?

  I pull up my banking app on my phone and log in. It takes a few seconds, which is not good, because the time between that and when it loads only gives my heart time to beat faster, so that when I actually see the balance in my savings, I have to grab a hold of the table to keep from falling over.

  I have thirty thousand dollars in my savings account.

  Chapter Twenty-Five - Vaughn

  #TheGiftThatKeepsOnGiving

  MY mind wanders all day. Grace, Grace, Grace. That’s all I think about as I listen to my agent go on about upcoming projects, promotions, and charity functions.

  I nod for everything.

  “Yes, sure, Larry,” I tell him when he asks if I’ll attend the IM2 premiere.

  “You will?” he asks, surprised. He’s holding his phone, glancing down at it every few seconds even as he talks to me. “I mean, you’ve been making such a big deal about it these last few years.”

  “Hell the fuck no! I’m messing with you. I can’t stand the paparazzi and the fanfare. I’m sick of it. I’ve lived in the public eye for twenty-seven years, and that’s not including the first five years where the public eye was only Adam. It’s tiring. I’m at the point where this really is a job, ya know? I’d like to go home at the end of the day and just… be with people in a normal way.”

  Larry looks at me suspiciously, one brow hitched up on his forehead, one eye squinting. “You’re seeing someone?”

  “What? No, hell no. I’m not seeing anyone.”

  “You have a girl at your place, don’t you? I’m coming over tonight to check. Are you shacking up?”

  “No, Larry. Look, all I mean is that I need space. I need… time off maybe.”

  “Time off? Are you kidding me? V, your career is at its height. You’re in your prime. You have roles coming out your ass. IM2 is the beginning. All those stupid roles are behind you and now is the time to take on projects that are meaningful and fulfilling. You can’t quit now.”

  “I’m not talking about quitting, I’m just talking about doing… something else. Like relaxing. Enjoying what I have for a year.”

  “A year? No, you can’t—” His phone buzzes in his palm and that distracts him away from my conversation just long enough for me to wave a hand at the waitress to get the check. “I have to take this, do you mind?”

  “You go, I’ll pay. Talk to you next week.”

  He pats me on the back as he answers his call and then walks out.

  We’ve had this weekly lunch every Tuesday for ten years. Larry is my best friend as well as my agent and I know he’s just looking out for my career, but the truth is I don’t want to think about my job, or the premiere of IM2, or the appearances I’ll have to do to promote it, or any of the other endless things that come with being a movie star in Hollywood.

  I need to get the hell out of Hollywood, actually. I think that might be my problem.

  “Here you are, Mr. Asher,” the waitress says as she hands me the check. I pull out my card and hand it over to her and go back to my thoughts, looking out the window onto Santa Monica Boulevard. Grace. That’s all I want to think about today. Tweeting with Grace tonight. And who would’ve thought that this simple thing could make my day?

  I wonder if she got my flowers, or realized I’ve padded her bank account with money? Or the Starbucks card?

  I’m still smiling at all of that when my phone buzzes and speak of the angel, she’s calling me right now to thank me! I press accept. “Calling me at work, tsk tsk tsk,” I say playfully.

  “Asher,” she seethes and I actually sit back in my chair at her tone. “Who the fuck do you think you are going into my private accounts? Just who the fuck?”

  “Whoa, Grace, not the thank you I was expecting.”

  “Thank you? Are you crazy? I’m writing you a check and giving all that money back. How dare you! I will not be bought. I will not have you giving me money with the presumption that I owe you something, understand? I will write you—”

  The waitress discreetly slips the bill back on the table and I hold my hand over the phone and mouth Thank you, bring the car, at her.

  “—and you will stop with this. Do you understand?”

 
“Grace, listen carefully, because you’re missing out on the experience of what just happened to you. OK?”

  “How dare you discount my feelings on this—”

  “Listen,” I growl at her. “You had your say, now I will have mine.” She huffs out some air and I can almost imagine the eye roll she’s giving me in Denver and that just makes her all the more desirable. But she needs a firm hand right now, because she’s being emotional and reactionary. “It’s a gift. I’d like to help you out. In your pursuits or dreams. Whatever. Use that money any way you want. There are no expectations tied to it at all. If you write me a check I won’t cash it, so don’t waste the time and effort it will take for all your self-righteous indignation. It’s pointless.”

  “I don’t want your gift. And I’ve changed my mind. I’m not tweeting with you tonight.”

  “You are.”

  “I’m not. And who the hell puts five thousand dollars on a Starbucks card? It’s ridiculous!”

  “What’s ridiculous about it? It’s a payment card, now you have money to pay.”

  “It’s five years’ worth of coffee, Vaughn. Starbucks could go bankrupt in five years. The world could end in five years. You have no idea what will happen in five years. So it’s a waste of money.”

  “You’re right, anything can happen in five years. But…” I hesitate, take a deep breath, and then say it. “But every day for the next five years you will walk into Starbucks knowing I’m still caring for you. Every day for the next five years you will think of me at least once. So it’s not a waste of money, it’s a gift that keeps on giving. For both of us. Because once a day I will know for certain that you are thinking of me. And once a day you will know for certain that I’m thinking of you. How is any of that ridiculous?”

  Total silence on the other end of the line.

  “Grace?”

  “I don’t even know what to think about that.”

  I shake my head in confusion as well. “What’s to think about? I don’t get it.”